Page 14 of The Slayer
Rather than apologize for not warning his friend, which Chuito personally thought was very fucked-up, Clay just asked, “Nose broke?”
Chuito watched with trepidation as Wyatt felt his nose. Chuito’s heartbeat was still throbbing in his ears. His eye was swelling. His jaw hurt worse, but he was starting to realize that he had just beat up a sheriff.
Even if they had asked him to, the reality was scary in the aftermath.
“It’s fine,” Wyatt assured him, still feeling his nose cautiously. “I think it’s fine. I’m gonna look like hell tomorrow, but not like it ain’t happened a hundred times before.”
“Wy—” Jules was at the cage, her fingers intertwined through the holes as she looked in.
“It’s fine, Ju Ju. I’m okay.” Wyatt rolled over and got onto his hands and knees with a grunt. He lifted his head to look at Chuito with wide eyes. Then he did the craziest thing of the afternoon, which was saying something. Wyatt glanced back and gave Clay a wild, manic smile and repeated with a sense of awe, “A southpaw.”
Clay held up a hand with a wince of apology. “I should’ve told you, but I thought it’d make the point better to fight him without knowing. To show you what all those motherfuckers in Miami were dealing with. He doesn’t give any hints. He blindsides them.”
“Oh my God, you found a fucking unicorn. A big, mean unicorn who fights like his life depends on it. Intense, no shit!” Wyatt jumped to his feet despite the fight and wiped a hand over his face, staring at his bloodied glove, while the blood dripped off his chin and ran down his chest. “And he’s fast. Holy shit, this boy is so fucking fast.” He spun around and pointed at Chuito. “How much do you weigh?”
Chuito frowned at him, still trying to recover from the mental whiplash. “’Bout two hundred. A little over.”
Wyatt ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in bloodied blond spikes as he considered that. “God, we could put him Heavyweight eventually. He’s only twenty. He’ll be fighting for years after you retire, and no one knows about him. He’s completely unknown on the circuit. You couldn’t buy that advantage for a billion dollars. It won’t last forever, but for now—”
“He’ll have to be twenty-one to get a contract,” Clay reminded him.
“It’s okay.” Wyatt still sounded manic with excitement. “We need time. His right side is weak. His offense sucks. His ground game is even worse, but who cares? He’s got a left hook that could kill a bull.”
Chuito realized Wyatt had just claimed to be stronger than a bull, which wasn’t far off, because he was bleeding like a literal stuck pig and looked to be happy as fuck about it.
These people were loco.
“Wyatt, are you all right?” Jules seemed to be the only one with common sense. “You’re bleeding like crazy.”
“I’msogood,” Wyatt assured her before he turned back to Chuito with a hard look. “Boy, you better stay out of trouble. You better appreciate that gift you’ve been given and plan to do something with your life.”
“Something, like what?” Chuito asked hesitantly.
“Are you naturally left-handed?” Wyatt asked him rather than respond, because he was really stuck on that.
Chuito nodded. “Sí.”
“Do you understand what being a southpaw means? Do you know how terrified professional fighters are of a natural southpaw? They will be scared to death to get into the cage with you. Do you know what a scared fighter is?”
“A dead fighter,” Chuito answered without hesitation.
“That’s a little over the top.” Wyatt threw up his hand at that and then grinned again. “But a scared fighter is a losing fighter, and that is the only kinda opponents we like fighting. We’ll get your right side strong and your left side stronger. All you got to do is stay out of trouble. Can you do that? ’Cause if you don’t, it’ll be the greatest waste in the history of this sport. Seeing you do anything else but fighting in the cage will be like an insult to God, who gave you that golden left hand.”
Chuito gave him a skeptical look, because he didn’t believe God had done him any favors. Instead of arguing, he just nodded and made a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. “Sí, I can do that.”
Chapter Six
“Okay, this is it.” Jules Conner opened the door to the apartment above her office. “It’s musty. No one’s lived here since I had it done. This has been sort of unexpected. I didn’t know Clay had invited a fighter here during that promo trip. The furniture I used was just some old stuff I picked up. You could redecorate if you want.”
“It’s fine.” Chuito tossed his bag by the door. He unzipped his jacket and dropped it on top of it. “How much?”
Jules pulled back in surprise. “You want to pay for it?”
Chuito gave her an equally shocked looked. “You want to give it to me for free?”
“I had assumed that when we gave you the fighter spot, you would require some living expenses to be covered until you started making money.”
Chuito looked around the small apartment again. It was one bedroom, and it wasn’t particularly fancy, but it wasn’t a shithole either. “What do I have to do for it?”
